REPOST: I wrote this when…Probably when I was 14 or 15, needed some editing so I decided to repost it. Gives me something to do when I'm pulling my hair out over writing my Ph.D. dissertation! Reviews welcome, constructive critique welcomed, flames not.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z Characters! However, if I did own them, I would have Vegeta tied to a bed doing very naughty things ;)

This fic was inspired by Nine Inch Nails: Fragile but it is not a song fic! Based in the 3 years training for cell

Chapter 1

Hopeless

Had she known of her fate, Bulma would have never invited that dark sayian to enter her world. But if one knew one's fate, then there would be no story.

She watched him from afar; wondering, contemplating her life and how suddenly it revolved around him. How her every moment seemed to be filled with his presence; how all of her projects had something to do with him. Everything from creating a gravity chamber that could both challenge and handle his onslaught of destruction to the smallest detail of the right laundry detergent for his training gear. The constant upgrades of the facilities, the new training bots she made every month once he broke the older versions, the stocking of the fridge to keep his insatiable appetite sustained…

Yet he never bothered her minus the occasional demand for the gravity room to be fixed. For an individual who made her life rather complicated and aggravating in the beginnings, he made every effort not to become bothersome to her. Through feuding they had managed to create a strange sense of each other; her knowing his needs before he demanded them in order to avoid the vicious arguments that originally had threatened to shake the walls of Capsule Corp down every other day. It was a cycle; he damaged the bots after a few weeks; she made new ones. Every week a large shipment of food would arrive to keep the house sustained and emergency meals easy to prepare always ready in case she or someone else was unable to cook for him. In the beginning she hated catering to him, insisted on respect. But over time she realized that his respect was not something spoken as much as it was an action. Dishes washed and put away for her, heavy things moved and lifted when she was unable to do it herself. In many cases he unloaded the groceries before she even managed to get a chance, usually because her head was stuck in fixing and repairing the things he needed. It was not ideal, but it was a start.

His path rarely crossed hers anymore and when it did, it was for the briefest of moments. Not even a breath drawn before he disappeared out of her way. Ever since that incident with the gravity chamber exploding and she had to tend to his wounds, he kept out of her way…"BULMA, YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUIRED IN THE LABORATORY." The intercom echoed inside her head, shaking out of her reverie and reminding her of the pile of work she had before her. She turned her gaze away from the Gravity Chamber and proceeded down the dark stairwell into her safe haven. A place of mechanical magic intermixed with the potions of chemistry was where she truly belonged. Here, she could work and create to her hearts content without the dark silhouette clouding her mind.

He needed no purpose to live on that wretched place called Earth. He needed no blood to end his thriving thirst for violence and vengeance. But suppose, that was the reason for his existence? Was blood and violence all that he was good for? It was not anymore. In his mind, his body had one sole purpose on this wasteland. To surpass Kakorrot... Yet even though one day he would reach his goal, he knew he would have no purpose to exist in such a place that wished for peace and joy.

The blue haired beauty never crossed his mind consciously. She haunted him in dreams which left him in a comforting haze, before it disappeared, leaving him in the clutches of his many twisted nightmares. And only the Prince of Sayians could never remember those few seconds of peace. He never felt her eyes on him; for the eyes of his spectators, his enemies, and Frieza surrounded his whole being. Yet day after day, he knew, somewhere deep inside, that she was watching him.

When she awoke from the junk that littered the table, Vegeta stood in a corner, watching her with his dark eyes, studying her form. What was I doing...? Ah, she remembered. The blueprints sprawled out before her were those of another invention, inspired by Dr. Briefs and styled by her mother. Why have an ugly mega- speed coffee maker when you could have one looking like it came out of Vogue? It wasn't terribly brilliant on her part, but both her parents wanted faster coffee, just like the rest of the fast paced world. And so she stood, rolling them up and securing them with rubber bands, clearing the table for Vegeta's meal. Once again she tried to strike up a conversation, only to have it end in vain. "I made you some dinner..." He made no reply. She watched him for a moment. "You must be very hungry... all you do is train." Once again, silence. She sighed. "Well...it's in the oven...just set it to 250 C and wait a few minutes." She walked away from the kitchen, carrying her precious plans. Looking back for a moment, she called to him. "Eat something Vegeta, you look terrible." With that, she was gone like the whisper of a breeze.

He did indeed look terrible, and he knew it. But it wouldn't have mattered anyways. He had no mate to keep his health for; all he wanted was to gain the power he needed, so he could finally beat Kakorrot. Alas, he had to eat something, after all to gain ones power, one needs strength. Grabbing the food from the oven, he dug his way through it, wishing in his life for once that Chichi or even Bulma's infuriating mother had cooked instead of her, the blue haired beauty.

He plagued her mind like a mosquito plagues the unfortunate one with the sweetest blood. Just pricks now and then of his image, entering her thoughts and cascading her mind into whirlwind fantasies of him. How she wanted those hands on her trembling limbs. Yet she knew he didn't want her, didn't need her, didn't crave her the way she coveted and desired him. She just wanted one taste to satisfy her once dormant urges. And what about Yamcha... The sweet, adoring Yamcha who barely gave her the time of day anymore. Or was it the other way around? She hadn't left her house in over a month, burying herself in project after project. Trying to drown the temptations in stress. She turned over in her bed, watching the moon from her balcony windows. Waiting for something exciting happen, someone to take her away into the night. But like every night for the past year, nothing happened, leaving her feeling so utterly...hopeless.